


Fly

by neytah



Series: Fly [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Violence, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytah/pseuds/neytah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sansa Stark stands on the edge of the bridge, she's ready to jump.<br/>But a mysterious stranger yanks her from the edge, and everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings (entire work): suicide attempt, sexual assault by an authority figure, and domestic violence. I will warn for each chapter these things appear in. There is also an abusive relationship that appears in multiple chapters that i will not warn for. Also a significant age difference (obv) feel free to message me/comment if you need more specific details involving triggers or if i should add another trigger warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt

The wind blows strong tonight, biting at my cheeks and going right through the thin fabric of my dress. Cars wiz past, adults driving home from late night shifts, or packs of college students crammed into vans, off to parties on the other side of town. No one notices the girl in the purple dress. Out late past her bedtime, standing on the bridge walkway, staring into the waters far below.

Joffrey loved this dress. On July 8th, our first official date, we went out for ice cream at _Summer Freeze_ and I wore this dress. I got Mint Chocolate Chip and he got Triple Chocolate Explosion, and we sat at a park bench by a small stream, and we talked. We talked of our families, of pestering parents and annoying younger siblings. We talked of school: his, Casterly Academy for boys, and mine, Winterfell Academy for girls. Two joint schools, yet we had not met until four days previous. When Dad ran into Mr. Baratheon at the park for the fourth of July fireworks, an old friend he’d not seen in years. And Joffrey and I, we had not seen each other since we were children. And so our love story began.

I want him to remember me like this, as the girl in the purple dress with mint chocolate chip on her lips. Not the girl that betrayed him, the girl that didn’t listen, that did not love him enough. And I will remember him as the boy with the chocolate ice cream he shared with me, with hair of liquid gold and hand soft in mine. I will remember how I loved him so.

The metal railing is cold against my palms. I shake off a shiver, then swing my legs over. Now, nothing separates me and the water but air, my feet perched on the ledge, and my hands still gripping the rail. My dress about in the wind. It is made for summer weather. Not for the biting winds of autumn.

I close my eyes. I block out the sound of the cars behind me. And I focus on my breathing, the metal against my hands, my feet, barely balanced on the small ledge.

Breathe in, breathe out. Then I let go.

But I don’t fall. A strong arm wraps around me, roughly yanking me back over the railing. I fall to the ground, reeling. I open my eyes.

A man looms above me, face illuminated in pulses but the lights of passing cars. His hair is long and unkempt, what there is of it. The side of his face is disfigured, a gruesome mark stretching along his scalp and down the side of his face. He looks like a villain from a superhero movie, or a sullen military commander from one of dad’s war movies.

“Are you crazy?” He says, his voice gruff and full of anger. He grabs me by my shoulders, dragging me to my feet. I shiver now, not from the cold, but of fear. Up close, I can see the details of his scars. His teeth are yellow and his breath stinks of cigarettes.

He lets go of my shoulders, and I sway at the sudden lack of support. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. It smells of B.O., smoke, and gasoline.

“You need a ride home, kid?” He says. “Police? Hospital? I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

I’m frozen, my voice lost somewhere inside me. I can’t respond. He sighs.

“Let’s at least get you off the road. C’mon.”

It’s now I notice the truck, a rusty silver pickup truck, halfway on the sidewalk. It’s still running, driver’s side door wide open. He walks me around to the passenger side and opens the door. After taking a moment to clear crushed soda cans and empty chip bags from the seat, before helping me up into the truck.

By my feet is a jug of that blue liquid for cars, and a couple crumpled McDonalds’ bags. The stink of cigarettes hangs in the air, the tree shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror is no match for it.

The man climbs into the driver’s seat, closing the door with a slam. The air freshener sways on its string. He shifts the car into gear and drives off the curb with a bump. The air freshener shakes again. He drives wordlessly until we’re off the bridge, then he pulls over again.

“Where you wanna go, kid?” He asks again.

“I…” I don’t know. I left home, climbed out my window, walked to the main road, caught the bus. There was never a return plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He turns to face me.

“What’s your name, little bird?”

“Sansa.”

“Look, Sansa, I don’t know what was happening back there, I don’t need to know why, and you don’t have to tell me. But right now I have a teenage girl I don’t know in my car in the middle of the night. I can take you home, or to a friend’s house, or anywhere you want that’s safe. But you need to tell me.”

I’m crying. Why am I crying?

He reaches in front of me, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a crumpled napkin. He hands it to me, and I take it thankfully.

“Home.” I say through trembling lips.

“Where d’ya live?”

“River Road.”

“River Road? That’s on the other side of town! How’d you get here?”

“The bus.”

He sighs, shaking his head. He shifts gears, and goes back on the road. We go through the city, the bright lights of still open stores and neon billboards advertising sales. But after a while, it fades to the residential area, little homes of little families, all gone to sleep. Then we reach River Road.

“Stop.” We jolt to a stop, the green air freshener dances about its string.

“I should get out here,” I say, “Mum will... I should get our here and sneak in.”

He nods. It’s now I remember his jacket, still draped about my shoulders. I go to give it to him, but he stops me.

“It’s cold outside. Keep it.” He reaches across to the pocket closest to him, removing his wallet, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Now go, little bird. Be safe.”

I’d forgotten the biting cold of the night air. It whips my hair about and rosies my cheeks during the short walk back home, back up through my window, back to a room I thought I’d never see again. It’s now I notice the contents of the other pocket. A few loose screws and broken cigarettes. And a worn and folded business card.

_Sandor Clegane: Repair Technician_   
_Khalasar Car Repair_   
_17 Essos Ave_   
_583-978-5537_


	2. Chapter 2

Mother doesn’t notice. Neither does father. No one gives a second thought to the bags under my eyes or the crumpled purple dress on my floor. No one looks for the unfamiliar leather jacket hidden in the back of my closet.

Nothing’s changed. The absence of my absence is only surprising to me.

Arya and Bran are arguing again, per usual, over some video game, and Rickon is following them around like a puppy. Mum is yelling at them to stop bickering, which they do, at least for a moment, and then continue bickering quietly.

Dad is completely stone-faced, as he always is in the morning before the coffee kicks in. He drives us to school today, only talking to us if they get abnormally loud or rude. First, we drop off Rickon at Elementary, then Bran at Middle School, then, finally, Arya and I at Winterfell Academy.

Arya’s a freshman, and I’m a senior, so we rarely see each other in school. Not that she wants to associate with me, anyway. She hangs out with a bunch of strange boys with motorcycles, which Mum doesn’t like, but Dad allows, for some reason.

The day is normal. I have all my classes. I sit with Beth and Jeyne at lunch, and they do most of the talking. I see Joffrey’s sister, Myrcella, in the hallway. I wave. She waves back. School is over soon. It flies by.

Arya has soccer practice afterschool, and I walk to the park a few block from the school. It’s a special place. It’s where I meet Joffrey.

It’s more of a ‘for-kids’ park than a ‘romantic-and-artsy’ place. There’s a rooty path surround by bushes and trees, where the children play tag or hide and seek, and make forts among the bushes. Then there’s a playground, and a currently closed swimming pool. There’s a gazebo and a path for runners and a baseball field and fenced in basketball and tennis courts. And then, cornered off from everything else, is an open field, which they cover with ice for skating in winter. And between it and the rest of the park, is a stone bridge.

There used to be a stream here, maybe, dug out and bordered with cut stones, with a petit little bridge crossing it. But it’s since been abandoned, the stream is now more of a marsh. Children play in it sometimes, against their parents’ wishes. But the bridge, the small stone bridge that crosses the river-turned-marsh, is where Joffrey and I meet.

It’s beautiful here. I sit on the side of the bridge, watching the joggers going by, or people walking their dogs, or children excitingly running to the playground, followed by less enthusiastic parents. It’s one of the last sunny, warm days of October, and plenty of people are out to enjoy the sun. As the winter sets in, less and less people will come. Eventually, it will be too cold for Joffrey and I to meet here, and we’ll have to meet somewhere else. Maybe he’ll get a car for his eighteenth birthday, and he can pick me up afterschool and could drive me home or wherever we want to go. That’d be nice.

But for now, here I sit, watching a girl getting pushed on the swing set by her father, waiting for Joffrey to come.

But he doesn’t. I wait for a whole half hour. The little girl abandons the swings for the climbing wall, and then the slide, and then her father carries her home on his back, the girl laughing all the way. And Joffrey still isn’t here. I call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. His phone’s off. I sit around for a few more minutes, but I get restless. I walk the circular path around the gazebo, over and over again. But he doesn’t come. So I go.

I don’t set out with any sort of plan. I just walk, sometimes run, until I’m out of breath, and then I walk some more. I let my feet guide me across town. Until I find myself back at my house.

The driveway out front is empty. I get the hidden key out of its hiding place and let myself in.

It’s painfully quiet. No sounds of explosions from video games or action movies, none of Arya’s strange music blasting through the house, no Rickon running about the hallways until mum yells at him to stop, that he’ll hurt himself. It’s quiet. I wonder if it’d be this quiet if I was gone.

So I wander about, drowning myself in the silence. I go to Mom and Dad’s room, lie on their bed and stare at their ceiling, wondering what they think of when they do the same. I peek into Rickon’s room, but it looks like a disaster site, so I elect not to venture inside. I poke around Bran’s room, find a _Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition_ hidden in his closet. In Arya’s room, there’s a pack of weed hidden in the back of her drawer. If I was in another mood, I wouldn’t waste a second thought telling Mom. But today, I feel like a ghost, wandering about my life as though I am no longer in it.

Then I wander into Jon and Robb’s old room. I’ve only been in here a few times since they left. The walls look strange without posters covering them, the carpet surprisingly clean, not scattered with abandoned schoolwork and discarded clothes. Robb is off to college, and Jon to the National Guard. At first, it was painfully strange without them. But we’ve all gotten used to their absence now. But we miss them. I miss them. Mom even misses Jon, though she won’t admit it. I’m the oldest child in the house now. If thing went differently, Arya would be now.

I go to my room.

In 4th grade, when we moved here, Mom let us pick out the paint for our rooms. At the time, I’d picked out a peachy pink with fuchsia accents. It not exactly fitting anymore. I bet if I asked Mom, she’d let me change it. But I never have.

The purple dress, previously left in a pile on the floor, had been swept up in the morning laundry run. All proof of last night’s endeavors are gone. All except the jacket.

I take it out from its hiding place, nestled between boxes of old books and stuffed animals in the back of my closet. It still as that same smell. Not just cigarette smoke, but that of the man who saved me. I still cannot decide if I’m glad he did or not.

And still in that pocket, are the broken cigarettes and business card. The paper is soft in my hand, corners worn, a coffee cup stain across it.

Maybe this isn’t even him. Maybe it’s just some card he picked up and forgot about, or maybe he used to work there, but has since moved on, forgetting to get rid of the card.

But I want to see him.

I don’t know why, but I do. I’ve got nothing better to do. I should at least try to return his jacket. I never should’ve taken it from him. Why’d he ever give it to me?

I pull the jacket about my shoulders and put my arms through the sleeves. The inner lining is soft and satiny, a pleasant cool around my arms. The smell has become less of an annoyance and more of a… comfort.

I type the address on the card into MapQuest. And then I go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much plot advancement for this chapter, just laying down the ground work for the rest of the story. Thank you to everyone that kudos'd, commented, bookmarked, or subscribed! you're all lovely! more soon :)


	3. Chapter 3

It’s his truck. I know it is. The same one, silver and rusted, the back filled with various car parts and bits of metal. There’s that tree shaped air freshener. And I know it’s his. It just has to be.

It’s parked in front of a house, connected to a much larger garage. A sign on the front lawn reads “Khalasar Car Repair." On the front door, a sign is turned to say “come in, we’re open.”

Now that I’m here, actually seeing it, I’m frozen in place. What am I doing here? This is crazy. Everything is crazy. I’m crazy.

I’m crazy enough to walk down the pathway and open the door. A bell rings, announcing my arrival.

Inside, there are a half dozen plastic cushioned chairs, for waiting customers. The walls are a spring green, a wallpaper with winding patterns leading across it. There’s a hallway, with several doors beyond. And there’s a desk. And the man sitting at the desk looks up at me.

He’s beautiful. He looks a bit like Joffrey, except older, with his bright blonde curls and piercing blue eyes. And his smile. He has a gorgeous smile.

“Hello miss. Can I help you?”

“Um…” I think back to the name of the card. “I’m looking for Sandor Clegane, does he work here?” He smirks and gives a nod, picking up an intercom speaker.

“Sandy, there’s a girl out here in your coat looking for you.”

 There’s a distant sound of laughter, then the slamming of a door. Then footsteps. Then the door in the hallway, leading from the garage opens. And it’s him.

His eyes grow wide. I meet his gaze with equal shock. I bet he thought he’d never see me again. I thought I never would too. Yet here I am.

“Hi, I…” Finding my voice, I hastily remove the jacket. “I wanted to return your jacket.” I extend it towards him. He takes two large steps forward to take it from me. Now without the jacket, its layer of comfort and purpose is gone. I feel out of place in this room. And I stand here, awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something.

“You two need a moment alone?”

“Shut up Loras.” Sandor says, shooting him a glare. Loras puts his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, how do you know her, anyway?”

“S’was out wandering last night. Gave her a ride home.” He shrugs his jacket back onto his shoulders. I wonder if it smells like me.

Loras looks back at me.

“What were you doing walking around town last night?”

“You don’t have to answer him. He’s an idiot.” Loras feigns surprise, and I am thankful for the deflection from the topic.

My eye catches the clock, on the wall behind Loras’ desk. Mom and Dad will be here. I should go. I really should go. Loras and Sandor are still bickering. It’s funny to watch. I should go.

“I should go.” I say, interrupting their banter. “My parents will be home soon. They’ll be worried if I’m not there. I should go.”

“Do you want a ride?” Sandor asks. Loras mutters something under his breath, and Sandor smacks him upside the head.

“That’s okay,” I say. “I can walk.” So I back towards the door, offering cautious wave. Sandor waves back. I think Loras does too.

I get a few blocks before I hear my name. My head whips around to see Sandor running towards me. He soon catches up, flushed and out of breath.

“Your phone,” he says between pants. “You left it in your pocket—my pocket—here.” He hands it to me. It’s as pink and sparkly as ever. I’d forgotten about it.

“Thank you.” I say. He stands before me, nearly a foot taller. Last night I was terrified. He’d loomed in front of me, a stranger doused in shadows, and I trembled in the cold. But now, he’s not scary at all. He’s a comfort. Maybe even a friend.

“Sorry about Loras.” He says once he catches his breath, gesturing back towards the garage. “He’s a character.”

“He seems nice.” I say. He laughs at that, a deep chuckle that seems to vibrate through his bones.

“He seems nice for the first few weeks, definitely. After a year or so, it gets old.”

“I should…” I point behind me, the direction I’d been going, to home.

“Yeah, I should head back too.” He says. “Goodbye, Sansa.”

“Goodbye, Sandor.”

I watch him go for a moment, leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. Then I turn, and head back home.

It’s a peaceful walk. The most peace I’ve felt in a while. Just the fresh air and the smell of grass and an empty mind. It’s wonderful.

Joffrey texts me later.

[sorry I couldn’t meet ya babe got pulled into something afterschool]

[that’s okay] I text back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit shorter, but the next one will be longer. Thank you for all the lovely comments, even though I don't respond to most I read them all and appreciate them and you're all super lovely <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we finally meet Joffrey this chapter who is (big surprise!) a little shit. Thus **Trigger Warning:** Abusive relationship, peer pressure, underage drinking
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments!!!! <3

Life is uneventful for the next week or so. It’s the same routine. Day in, day out, all a blur. Arya wants to dye her hair blue, and argues with Mom for an hour about it before shunning her for the rest of the week. Rickon gets in a fight with a classmate over legos, so he’s grounded, and clearly not happy about it.

Jeyne gets asked out by Ramsey Snow. She’s so excited, she talks about him all the time now, which I don’t mind much. He got her a necklace. It’s beautiful.

I still meet Joffrey after school. I still love him, and he still loves me. Everything is constant. Everything is stable.

On Friday, afterschool, I go to the park to meet Joffrey, like usual. It’s getting colder now, and the thin jacket I’d grabbed on the way out the door does little to keep me warm. I hope he comes soon. And that he will hug me and hold me and keep me warm.

But he doesn’t come. I stand here, shivering for about ten minutes. A few bundled up joggers come by, but the children are all at home, likely playing with toy trucks and legos and dolls. The plants of the marsh below me have fallen into each other, ready to be covered in a blanket of snow. It’s cold. Where is he? I shoot him a text. He doesn’t respond.

Then I hear the yells from across the park. Emerging from the path, crossing the playground, heading towards me, is Joffrey. But he’s not alone. He’s with a gang of boys, his friends, I assume. I’ve met one of them, I think, but the rest are unfamiliar. He doesn’t look kind. He doesn’t look loving. He doesn’t look like himself. He scares me.

“Hey babe,” He says, swinging him arm around my shoulder and pulling me into him. His breath smells of alcohol.

He introduces me to each of his friends. I don’t remember their names. They look me up and down, their eyes like fire, burning my skin and eating me up once I’m nice and cooked. Every part of my body screams to leave, get out of here, away from their burning eyes. Even Joffrey’s arm around me offers no comfort. He offers me no comfort at all.

Joffrey reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a flask. He unscrews the cap, and offers it to me.

“Go on, drink it.” He says.

I don’t want to drink it.

“Go on,” He says, shoving it in my face. The smell is overwhelming, a toxin invading my nose. It feels like I can’t breathe for a moment. “Go on,” he says. “Take it.”

I don’t want to take it.

But I do.

The minute the liquid hits my tongue I gag, the alcohol jumping from my mouth to the ground. I gasp for air. They all laugh, jumping back from the splatter. Joffrey laughs too, sharp and loud and cold in my ear. He pushes the flask back towards my mouth. “Actually swallow this time.”

“I don’t want to.”

The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Everyone goes quiet. And Joffrey’s eyes are not the bright blue light I so love. They’re dark and cold, baring into me like nails. I’ve only seen him like them once before.

“Then go.” He says, shoving me away. “Don’t need you to ruin the fun.” His friend join in his jeers as I walk away. I do my best to ignore them as I break into a run.

He’s not usually like this. He’s kind and loving, it’s that awful drink that makes him this way. I love him. He loves me. I love him.

I just run. I run and run and run to nowhere in particular, just away from him and his friends and his harsh words and dark eyes. I love running. I love the burn in my legs and the fire in my lungs, I love the air clinging to me, how it parts as I move through it, as I breathe it in and out. It makes me forget. It’s just me and the ground, the clothes on my back and the air around me.

And I find myself in front of Khalasar Car Repair. It’s the same as it was last week. Same olive green paint. Same truck parked there. His truck. But this time, I have no reason to be here, nothing to say. Yet here I am.

But I still go through the door. A bell rings, announcing my arrival again. Loras is not alone today. A woman stands next to him. They had been talking, before I burst in.

She’s stunning. She looks like a model, a Barbie doll. Her hair is a platinum blonde, twisted into intricate braids. Her face is a perfect heart shape, her lips a perfect shade of pink, her eyes a soft hazel. Her stomach curls out in front of her, cloaked in a sky blue dress. She’s pregnant, second trimester, at least.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” She says, rushing towards me. I reach up to touch my face. It’s wet. I’ve been crying. I didn’t realize I was crying.

She guides me over to one of the chairs and sits me down.

“Loras, get her some water.” She commands. Loras scrambles off. She sits next to me, puts her arm around me, and pulls me against her chest.

“I’m Dany, everything’s gonna be okay, sweetie.” Her voice is soft, like a lullaby. She smells of flowers. Loras returns with a little paper cup, and I sit up to drink the water from it.

“That’s Sandy’s jacket girl.” I hear Loras tell Dany. The water is cold down my throat, refreshing.

I finish the water, and hand it back to Loras, who goes running off to refill it again. Dany rubs circles into my back. I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Everything is okay. Everything is okay. Everything is okay.

Loras comes back with another full cup, and I take it gratefully. He’s unsure of what to do now, and mosies back to his desk.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? What happened?” Dany asks.

“I’m fine.” I say. My voice cracks. It surprises me. I didn’t think I’d cry. I don’t like crying.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dany asks tentatively, still stroking my back.

“It’s fine. He was just drunk.” My voice is high and squeaky as it leaves my mouth.

“Who? Did he hurt you?” Dany’s voice goes from softness to anger fast.

“No, no…” I’m quick to say. “He was just drunk. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t touch me.”

Dany sighs in relief, I think, continuing to rub circles into my back. I reach up and wipe the residual tears from my eyes. I hate crying. My face goes red and my makeup runs and I can’t talk without my voice going high. It makes me look weak. I hate looking weak. He never likes it when I look weak.

Back in August, Joffrey took me out hunting. We had matching gear and everything, and he brought his shotgun, and he let me hold it and showed me how I’d shoot. I didn’t though. We went out into the woods in his backyard, down dirt paths already trampled by him and his father. I let him lead me through the woods, his hand in mine, our footsteps soft on the ground. It was lovely. At least at first. Until he caught trail of a deer. He followed it, and I followed him, closely and silently behind.

It was a beautiful deer. It was a doe, gentle on its toes, minding its own business. I shouldn’t have screamed. I should’ve let him shoot it. But it got away. He was so angry. He was so angry at me. We never went hunting together again. And I never made him angry again. Until today.

I’m not sure how much time passes in that waiting room. Dany stays with me, rubbing circles on my back. Loras sits at his desk, typing on his computer, occasionally glancing at me, to check that I’m still here and alright. I can breathe, eventually. I look up at the clock. Mum should be home in half an hour.

“I should go home.” I say. I always come here saying I should go. I come, then I look at the clock and I need to go home. I don’t know why.

“Do you need a ride?” Dany asks. I nod.

“I can’t drive,” I hear Dany say, “’cause the baby, but my husband can give you a ride, or Loras, or Sandor…”

I don’t know why. But the thought of being back in that beat-up truck, and seeing him again, makes me happy. It makes me feel safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another! hope y'all like it:)

Dany leads me down a short hallway, to another door. Unfamiliar music pounds on the other side. And then I’m in the garage.

Three cars, all lined up in a row, front trunks open, engines and stuff displayed. An old radio sits on a rickety wooden table, also supporting several open boxes of tools, parts, bits of metal I don’t understand. A man leans against the table, tipping back a beer bottle. He looks at us as we enter, and his face lights up.

“Ah, la luna de mi vida,” he says, approaching Dany, cupping her face in his hands and sharing a chaste kiss.

“This is my husband, Drogo.” Dany tells me.

“This is… Sansa, right?” I nod.

“Nice to meet you.” Drogo says.

In reaction to my name, one of those wooden boards with wheels rolls out from underneath the car closest to us. It’s Sandor, a wrench in his hand and an oil smear across his forehead.

“Sansa,” He says, pulling himself to his feet. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Sansa needs a ride home,” Dany says. “I can’t—” She cut off by giggles as Drogo nuzzles into her neck.

They’re so beautiful together. The way he looks at her, like she’s an angel from a dream. They’re so different from each other. But yet so beautiful together. So happy together. Maybe someday Joffrey and I can be like that.

“I’ll give her a ride.” Sandor says before Dany can ask.

“You’re working.” Drogo reminds him, pointing at the car he was just under.

“And _I_ am your employer, and I command you to take this sweet girl home,” Dany says, an air of humor in her voice. She gently pushes Drogo aside and grabs me by my shoulders, looking into my eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks. I nod, smiling. “Now, if you never need anything you can call me. Do you have a phone?” I nod rapidly, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. Dany takes it, and after a few clicks, hands it back to me.

“There’s my number, never hesitate to call. Never.” She pulls me into a hug, her arms tight around me. I hug back. Her enlarged belly presses into mine. I never got to ask when it was due, if it’s a boy or a girl. But now isn’t the right time. Maybe another time.

“Ready to go, little bird?” Sandor asks. I nod. He takes my hand and leads me out. I wave goodbye to Dany and Drogo, a huge smile on my face. I haven’t smiled like this in a while.

“I’ll be back soon.” Sandor mutters at Loras as we pass through the lobby.

“Bye, Loras.” I say before we cross over the threshold out into the open again. A bell rings again, signaling our exit.

I’d forgotten how cold it was outside. It’s getting later, and clouds have covered the sun. I shiver in my thin jacket.

Sandor’s hand is rough and calloused, a sharp contrast to mine. The soft porcelain skin, seafoam blue manicured nails that Jeyne and Beth and I got done last weekend. My hand fits in the pocket of his palm as he guides me around back, to his truck. He doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s because he has nothing to say. Or maybe, like me, he doesn’t know what to say. I wish I could say something.

He opens the passenger side door, and helps me up to the elevated seat. It’s the same as it was that night. The leather seats beneath me, wrinkled and stained. Maybe fake, I wouldn’t know. There metal odds and ends scattered around, various car parts reeking of oil or gasoline. Various screwdrivers, wrench sets, loose nails along the dashboard.

“Why is your car so messy?” I ask out of the blue. Sandor looks over at me, with cold eyes that a week ago would have scared me. “You fix cars for a living, why is yours so…” I trail off. He turns the key. The car starts.

“Lemme ask you something,” he says. “Does the truck drive?”

“Yes.”

“Then it works. I’ll fix people’s cars, make ‘em pretty if they like. But that doesn’t matter to me. The outside doesn’t matter, as long as the inside works. Cuz if the inside doesn’t work, the outside ain’t worth much innit?” He smiles, a crooked smile with his yellow teeth. I smile back. He turns out of the parking lot.

We drive for a while in silence. I watch him drive, his face peaceful as he commands the steering wheel. I pick up the little trinkets I find rolling about the car.

“That’s a ball bearing,” He says, and goes on to explain what it does, but I don’t really understand anything he says. I don’t stop him. I just like listening to his voice.

“Are you in a hurry?” He asks.

“No, not really.” He points at a McDonalds on the side of the road.

“Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

I haven’t been to one of these in years.

Mom never let us eat at places like this, it was too unhealthy, but sometimes, when Mom was out of town and Dad couldn’t be bothered to cook, he’d take us out. And when Robb got his license, sometimes he’d take all of us kids out for a treat and we promised not to tell Mom. But now Robb is gone.

“Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?”

“Yeah, can I get a double cheeseburger, no pickle, a large fry and…” He turns to me.

“You want anything?” He asks.

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

We pull up to the first window, and Sandor pays. Then we drive up to the next one, and he’s handed the bag. I can smell the food. Sandor takes his burger out and tosses the bag in my direction. He pulls into one of the parking spaces to eat. I can smell the fries.

“You can have some fries, if you want.” He says through a mouthful of burger.

“No, it’s fine, I shouldn’t.”

He stops what he’s doing, swallowing his mouthful, and staring at me, again, with those eyes.

“Okay,” he says, putting his burger down on his lap and grabbing the bag, pulling out the container of fries. “Don’t give me any of that it’s not good for you bullshit. Don’t ever let anyone feed you that crap. Life is too fucking short to worry about calories and cholesterol. And God knows you don’t need to worry about them. So have some fries. Enjoy them.” I take the fries from his outstretched hand. He returns to his burger.

They smell amazing. They’re golden-brown and crispy and steaming and warm in my hands. So I do. I take one. It’s hot between my fingers and is quick to jump to my mouth. Oh my god. It’s amazing. I’d forgotten. I take another.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” He says.

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”

He smiles at me. I smile back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning:** Sexual Assault  
>  this is a pretty focal chapter. As corinne157 noticed in chapter one, Sansa mentions betraying Joffrey, and this is where you find out about that, and more or less her primary motive for suicide. It was a hard chapter to write, being such a sensitive topic, and I hope I did it justice.

Joffrey doesn’t apologize. He never does. It just goes on like it never happened. Just like with the hunting trip. It’s better to pretend it never happened. It’s better just to pretend it never happened.

“You’re different.” Jeyne says at lunch.

“What?”

“I mean, you’re not as mopey anymore. Did something happen with Joffrey?” She coos.

I blush. Me and Joff went out this weekend to this school bonfire thing. I saw Jeyne and Ramsey there, as cute as ever. There was hot dog roasting and music and dancing and s’mores. Joffrey let me dance with him, and he hates dancing, but he did anyway, for me. And then we got a ride home with our friends and he kissed me goodnight. It was wonderful.

Jeyne and I go to American History after lunch, with Mrs. Mordane. She goes on and on about the Vietnam War and Jeyne and I text from across the room, until Mrs. Mordane confiscates Jeyne’s phone, so we’re forced to pay attention to her dull powerpoint presentation.

Then the intercom bell rings.

“Excuse the interruption, is Sansa Stark in class?”

“Yes, she is.” Responds Mrs. Mordane.

“Can you send her to Mr. Baelish’s office?”

No.

No no no no no

“Right now, or at the end of class?”

“Now, if possible.”

“Alright, I’ll send her down.”

Mrs. Mordane retrieves the blue pass pad from her desk and beckons me over.

“Be back soon,” She says, handing me a signed pass. Jeyne gives me a questioning look, and I feign a shrug. I leave the classroom and close the door behind me.

Oh my god.

What do I do? Do I go? Do I hide? They’ll just call for me again, and find me, and get me in trouble and I’ll still have to see him. I have to go.

I don’t want to go.

I walk as slow as I can, each foot centimeters from each other each step. I take the long route, walk halfway around the school to just to postpone it. But in the end, I still end up at his door.

On the opaque glass of the door is a placard, reading his name. Mr. Petyr Baelish, Guidance Counselor. I need to knock. But I can’t. I’m frozen.

I can’t.

I can’t I can’t I can’t

But the door opens, sans my knock, anyway.

“Ah, Sansa. I was wondering where you were. Come in.”

It’s him. It’s him It’s him It’s him.

I follow him through the door. I remember this room. The pristine wooden bookshelves filled with books I’d never understand, the wall of plaques, pictures and certificates. His graduate diploma, framed, a plaque of some award he’s won, a picture of him shaking hands with someone important.

There’s his desk. A computer, a laptop, piles of papers stuffed into manila folders. His maroon carpeting. I remember it all.

“Go ahead, sit down.” He says. I do, in a maroon cushioned chair for students. I’ve sat her before. I look up at him, looming over me. I can feel myself quivering in fear.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

He reaches to my face and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. His fingers send chills down my spine.

“Why did you want to see me?” I struggle to say without my voice shaking.

He sighs, leaving my side and strolling around his desk, sitting down in this wheelie chair. He starts tapping at his computer.

I don’t know why I’m here.

But I do.

Mr. Baelish sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your excellent grades this quarter. You remain in the top ten percent of your class.”

“Thank you.”

That’s not why I’m here.

He stands up again, walking around his desk and sitting on the edge, right in front of me.

“How’s the new school year going for you, Sansa?”

“Okay.”

“Your sister’s a freshman now, right? She doing well?”

Arya.

No no no he hasn’t touched Arya has he?

No. Arya would never let him touch her. She’d kick and scream and run even if no one would believe her. Arya’s reckless, Arya’s fearless. I’m not like Arya.

He’s stood now, walking behind my chair. His fingers trail through my hair. He says something to me, I’m not sure what. His fingers leave my hair, onto my shoulder, reaching down, lower and lower, to my breast.

I scream.

I jump up, bolting to the door, but he grabs my arm and yanks me back. I stomp on his foot and wrench my arm from his grasp. My wrist screams in pain. But I’m out the door. And I’m running. I’m running down the hallway, out a door, away from the school. I run and run and run. My slip-on shoes fall off at some point, but I barely even notice. I just keep running. I keep running ‘till my lungs feel like they’re on fire. But I don’t stop.

I don’t stop ‘till I reach Khalasar Car Repair. And I still keep running. I run through the door, the bell rings. Loras opens his mouth to say something, but I’m past him before he can, through the door, down that short hallway, into the garage. Sandor’s standing at that small table, looking through a box of miscellaneous tools, and I barrel into him. He drops whatever he’s holding, clattering on the concrete floor.

“Sansa?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, this chapter ends in a bit of a cliffhanger, so i'm posting it and the next chapter at the same time.  
>  **Trigger Warning:** mentions of rape/sexual assault, physical assault

My arms wrap tight around him, and I’m crying. I’m bawling. He hesitantly wraps his arms around me.

Loras bursts through the door.

“What the…”

“It’s fine. Go back to your desk.”

Loras pauses for a moment, considering rebuttal, but just follows Sandor’s orders.

I’m not sure how long we stand there, me sobbing into his chest, his strong arms a comfort around me. Eventually my tears wane, my breath evens, and I can finally think coherently.

As the adrenaline fades, feeling returns to my feet, and a muted sting emerges. Still shaking, I step away from him, and I stumble, wincing in pain. He grabs my shoulders, stabilizing me.

“Here,” He reaches behind him, letting down the hood of the car closest to us. “Sit.”

“Isn’t that someone else’s car?”

“It’s fine. Sit.”

I gingerly step over to the car, and Sandor helps me up, effortlessly lifting me up by my armpits to sit on the car’s hood. Then he goes over to the knarled wooden table, rummaging through the various boxes strewn across it. I have a chance to look down at my feet, and I’m shocked by what I see. I can see the edges of pink blistering sores, and blood drips down the side of my left foot. Now actually seeing it, much worse than I thought, a panic rises within me.

“Ah, found it!” Sandor pulls, from the depths of boxes of tools, a small with box with a red cross. A first aid kit.

He plops it down on the car top next to me, and opens it, its stuffed contents spilling out. Sandor finds a handful of bandages and gauze, and keels in front of me. Piece by piece, he covers the sores and dabs the blood away. It’s all familiar to him, and it’s calming to watch him go about it.

When he’s finished, he stands with a sigh, and sits down next to me on the hood of the car. It creaks under his weight, but he pays the noise no mind.

“So… don’t you have school right now?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re here.”

“Yeah.”

Sandor doesn’t push further, and we sit in silence. I know not by what power I open my mouth again.

“I was in my guidance counselor’s office. The week before… we met.”

I feel him tense next to me. I think he looks towards me, but I keep going.

“I was there to talk about college—it’s my senior year, and we needed to talk about applying to colleges and stuff. But he…” A lump rises in my throat, interrupting my sentence. But Sandor stands, taking two steps forward and slamming his fist into the wall, making me jump.

“Dammit,” he mutters, wringing his hand in pain.

“Are you—”

“I swear to god, if I didn’t know better I’d drive across town and kill that bastard.” Sandor kicks a can sitting on the floor, and miscellaneous screws scatter across the concrete.

“It’s my fault.” I say. “I should’ve stopped him, I didn’t try hard enough.”

“No!” His hands slam onto the car hood, one on each side of my legs, his eyes in line with mine, filled with anger. He’s scaring me. “It’s not your fault,” he practically yells. “It is _never_ your fault. He took advantage of you, that bastard should rot in jail for whatever he did. You should report that fucker. Give him what he deserves.”

“I can’t report him, because then everyone would know and Joffrey would know and I’d be ruined!” I’m crying again, tears streaming down my face. Sandor moves away from me, putting his hands on his head and sighing.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…Dany would’ve been better at this.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” I say. Because if he tells then Joffrey will know and Jeyne will know and everyone will know and no one will want to talk to me and no one will ever love me. Maybe I’ve already ruined it I ran from him. Mum will demand to know why I skipped school. What will I even tell her? I’m so stupid. This is all my fault.

Sandor regains his composure and sits back down next to me.

“I won’t tell anyone.” He says. “It shouldn’t be any of my business. It’s your business.”

“Thank you.” My tears have receded again, but moisture still clings to my face. I don’t feel pain anymore. I feel numb.

“Why do you even care about me?” I say. “I’m no one important to you. You..." I swallow the lump again rising in my throat. "You didn’t have to stop your car that night. You didn’t need to give me your coat, you didn’t need to let me in.”

“Only cowards stand by as a young girl suffers.” He responds without hesitation. I look to him, and he’s looking at me. His hand reaches up, wipes the tears from my cheek.

“You’re a beautiful girl.” He says. “You deserve better.” His eyes are beautiful, a deep grey with flecks of blue if you look close enough. You could look and just see the grey, see the stone cold darkness. But I see the light. I see his light shining through.

The door opens, and I practically jump.

“Oh, geez, sorry.” It’s Loras. “Hate to interrupt your moment, but—computer’s not working again. Sandy, think you could take a look?”

Sandor gives an exasperated sigh and stands, following Loras back to the lobby.

“I’ll be right back,” He says, “Don’t cause trouble.” He cracks a smile. Then he’s gone.

The garage seems empty without him. There’s draft, one I didn’t notice before. I start to shiver. I swing my feet underneath me in attempt to distract me, to pass the time.

Then my phone buzzes. It’s Joffrey.

[At park.]

I have to see him. I have to go.

There’s a door straight from the garage to the outside. I tiptoe over. I open the door. And I’m gone.

It’s a light jog to the park. I need to take breaks because of my tender feet, but the bandages help lessen the pain. I don’t mind it much anyway.

It’s even colder outside, only my movement keeps me warm. Clouds have covered the sun, and our city is cast in a shadow. But I make it to the park fine.

He’s not here yet.

I thought he’d be here.

So I wait. I wait at our little stone bridge and pretend the flowers below are still bright and colorful, not dying, fading into the ground. I walk along the bridge edge, like I’m a child again. I sit and wait. It’s cold. Maybe I should’ve asked Sandor for a ride here. Maybe he would’ve let me borrow his jacket again. That’d be nice.

Footsteps. Then I’m falling to the stone ground.

“You whore!” No. Not my Joffrey. He found out and now he knows and he hates me. He grabs my hair and pulls me back to my feet. It hurts. Tears well in my eyes. He gets me pushed up against the side of the bridge, looming over me.

“You think I wouldn’t find out about your secret boyfriend on the Southside?!”

What?

His fist slams into my face. My neck snaps back. I reach my hand up to my face. Blood drips from my nose.

He isn’t talking about Mr. Baelish.

He’s talking about Sandor.

“Joff—” Another fist. I go sprawling onto the ground. My head is spinning. I gasp to breathe.

He pulls me up by the front of my shirt. There’s that cold anger in his eyes. Worse than the hunting trip. Worse than the other day, here, with the drinking. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

It’s like the devil.

With a burst of power, Joffrey swings me off the bridge. My head hits stone on the way down.

 

 

 

The last thing I remember is the flowers. The earthy smell of decomposing, the gentle bed of broken petals. What a beautiful place to go.

Then it’s black.


	8. +Epilogue

I dream.

I’m at that ice cream place, in the middle of summer. I’m wearing that same purple dress. My first date with Joffrey. But Joffrey’s not here.

It’s the same day, I know it. The same children running around, the same friendly cashier. But Joffrey’s not here. And Sandor is.

I order vanilla, and he orders strawberry. And we walk along that small stream and we don’t have to talk, because just being around him is wonderful enough. And he shares with me his ice cream and he teaches me how to skip rocks in the stream, and we take our shoes off and dip our toes in, let the tadpoles nibble at our feet. It’s a magical little world. I forget of Joffrey, and of Mr. Baelish, and that night on the bridge or the alcohol between my lips or the taste of blood on my tongue. It’s just me and Sandor, in a world of infinite strawberry and vanilla, of streams to nowhere and of blue speckled eyes that give me butterflies. It’s a magical little world.

But I can’t stay.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Bright lights. Like angels. Like a dentist’s office. Like the sky of a beach on a sunny day. Breath in. Breath out. I can hear it. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Mother’s hand. She’s asleep next to me, her head on the edge of my bed, her hand loose in mine. Something clamps my finger, monitoring my heartbeat. I’m in a hospital. It hasn’t hit me yet.

“Mom?” My voice comes out weak and ragged, but Mom’s eyes dart open.

“Sansa!” She jumps up, wrapping her arms around me. I attempt to hug her back.

“Doctor!” Mom yells, “She’s awake!”

I watch the flashlight as it moves back and forth. I say ‘ah.’ I let him poke tools into my ears and put a stethoscope under my shirt. I seem to be fine. Dad’s here too, and Arya and Bran and Rickon. Too sudden to call a sitter, I suspect.

Arya hasn’t hugged me in years. She’s barely even smiled at me. But she bounds into that room and attacks me with a hug, her arms around me, her face buried in my neck. She’ll deny it later, but there might’ve been a tear or two.

Rickon doesn’t understand. No one will really explain to him what happened. No one really should. He’s too young.

“A strange man found you, brought you here.” Mom tells me. Sandor found me. He saved me. Again.

“Let me see him.” Mom refuses the first few times, but eventually I convince her.

My heart leaps when he walks through the door.

“How ya doin, little bird?” I can’t remember the last time I smiled so wide.

Mum’s practically glaring at him.

“Who are you? How do you know my daughter?”

Sandor looks to me.

It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s right. Everyone’s gonna know I was hospitalized. Might as well know the truth. I trust him.

“Tell her.” I say. “Tell her everything.”

_8 months later_

Dany goes with me. She know the tattoo artist, he gave her her dragons. It hurts, of course, but Dany holds my hand the whole way through. Arya’s there too, she’s so jealous. It’s probably good that she’s too young, or else her entire body would be covered with ink. She flirts with the tattoo artist, Gendry. God, mom would have a fit if she was here.

Afterwards, with a bandage around my wrist. We get into Dany’s car and she drives us to the garage. Waiting for us are Loras and Drogo, and their little son, Rhaego in his father’s arms.

For my eighteenth birthday, Loras gets me a box of condoms. As Sandor would say, he’s an idiot. Dany and Drogo’s present is the tattoo, and it’s enough. But the biggest present of the day is Sandor’s. Dany puts a bandana over my eyes, and leads me into the garage. Then, she unties it, and it falls from my eyes.

Oh my god.

It’s beautiful.

Light blue and gleaming in the light, is a car. And on the windshield a little red bow. Sandor stands next to it, smiling from ear to ear. I let out a girly squeal, hurling myself into Sandor, wrapping him in a practically suffocating hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” He chuckles, a comforting rumble in my ear. I silence his laugh with my lips.

“Ah! Shield the child’s eyes!” Loras exclaims, throwing his hands in front of Rhaego’s eyes. Dany drives an elbow into his stomach, and Loras squeals.

There’s that laugh again, the laughs that banishes stress from my bones. It’s now he notices the bandage on my wrist.

“What’s that?” He asks, a smidgen of concern in his voice.

“Dany’s present.” I say. He gently peels the gauze away. Still spotted with blood, is a bird, purple watercolor wings spread.

“It’s beautiful.” He looks up at me, with those big grey calming eyes that I’ve grown to love more than anything. He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. And then he kisses me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we have finally reached the end! It was a wonderful and educational journey for me as a writer, and i'm so glad you came along with me. I've never had such a response to my writing and it was really amazing to get all this feedback and people wanted to read my story and I love all of you so much and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for leaving such lovely comments and kudosing and bookmarking and subscribing and caring about my work. I am just one writer in a haystack of others, and it was so rewarding and I love you all so much i read every single one of your comments and appreciate them all even if i don't respond.
> 
> As my gift for giving me so much support on this journey, I'm going to write a companion piece. I felt bad that there weren't many super cutie SanSan moments, so right now, I'm working on one for their first kiss. It'll be out soon :)
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me to the end. I love you all.
> 
> ~neytah


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